


but we did have a few tricks up our sleeves / and turned some sharp corners

by deiectus



Series: city!AU [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic, Established Relationship, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Growing Up, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Platonic Relationships, Pre-Relationship, astarte the cat, city!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2588279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deiectus/pseuds/deiectus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kabuto and Sasori are childhood friends that haven't seen each other in seven years. When Kabuto moves to complete his MD, they do their best to pick up where they left off. Restarting in a new city brings much more than one friend and a new job. In addition to Sasori, there's Sasori's boyfriend, Deidara, and their odd assortment of friends that call themselves "Akatsuki." Kabuto's TA-ing for Orochimaru, will be undergoing his residency under the critical Senju Tsunade, lives in an apartment building with the unnervingly perceptive Itachi and his cheerless younger brother, Sasuke, and finds himself forming an unexpected friendship with a shy teen volunteer named Hinata. On top of all that, there's also the annoying man who keeps nicking surgical masks from the hospital...</p><p> </p><p>[Modern day AU. No powers. Ensemble cast. Nobody dies (!!!). Happy endings (!!!).]</p>
            </blockquote>





	but we did have a few tricks up our sleeves / and turned some sharp corners

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS THE MAIN STORY OF CITY!AU. stay tuned & watch these jerks navigate their twenties (and teens!) and try not to be complete assholes!!!! 
> 
> perhaps auspiciously, I have begun posting this on sasori’s birthday. happy birthday, sasori! you have no idea what I’ve got in store for you.

Have you forgotten what we were like then  
when we were still first rate  
and the day came fat with an apple in its mouth  
  
it’s no use worrying about Time  
but we did have a few tricks up our sleeves  
and turned some sharp corners  
  
—"Animals," Frank O'Hara

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**April**

 

 

“You’re what?” Sasori balanced his cell phone between his ear and shoulder as he took the milk out of the fridge with one hand and closed the fridge door with the other. 

“I’m moving.” It was hard to hear Kabuto’s voice through the line; their connection was bad, and there was a lot of wind wherever (Sasori has it written down _some_ where) he was. “Joining you!” Kabuto shouted over the sound of a passing car. Sasori winced and dropped the carton; mercifully, the counter was only a few inches away. 

“Why,” Sasori said, partially an actual question and partially a response to the state of this morning: Kabuto yelling at him through the phone, Deidara snoring spread-eagle on the couch, and the cockroach that had just scuttled up next to Sasori’s glass.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Sasori used the opportunity to swiftly dispatch of the insect (you live with those things long enough, your muscle movements somehow became faster) and disinfect the countertop.

“—dical school!” Sasori heard Kabuto finally answer (in a yell, of course). “Dr. Orochimaru is transferring and he offered me a position as his TA—”

There was static for a few seconds. Sasori waited. His milk didn’t look very appetizing anymore, and neither did the cereal he was planning on eating.

The wind suddenly died down on Kabuto’s end. He must have entered a building. “I also have a full ride,” he said, voice hushed.

“Congratulations,” Sasori said, and while his tone was flat, he meant it.

“Thank you,” Kabuto laughed. The sound was shy, almost humbled. “I was right on the border for need-based aid, to think that merit—”

“I’m sure _Doctor_ Orochimaru had something to do with it.” Sasori walked over to the couch and kicked his roommate’s leg. He pressed the phone to his shoulder to block the sound on his end. “Deidara!” Sasori hissed. “Get up!”

“’th’ fuck,” Dediara groaned. He rolled onto his side and flipped Sasori off over his shoulder.

Sasori glared at him, but he could hear Kabuto saying something, and knew he should probably listen. He turned away from Deidara and put the phone back to his ear. “Sorry, I missed that.”

Sasori heard Kabuto sigh; he sounded a bit exasperated. “I was saying—never mind, it wasn’t important.” He paused for a second, then continued. “On a more important note, if you hear of any rental availabilities starting in July, I would greatly appreciate—”

“You don’t have to be so formal,” Sasori said, though if he were being honest, he’d always appreciated Kabuto’s leanings toward proper etiquette, however manipulative and situational they could be. “If I hear anything, I’ll let you know. When do you get here?”

“As soon as I find somewhere to live. I can move out of my place whenever as long as I give thirty days’ notice; July is just the timeframe I’ve picked.”

“And _Doctor_ Orochimaru didn’t offer you a room in whatever illustrious penthouse he—”

“Would you stop being an asshole? And in the first place, that’s inappropriate.”

Surprised that Kabuto hadn’t ignored his digs at Orochimaru, Sasori momentarily forgot what he was doing. Ah, right. Waking up Deidara. “I didn’t ask you for your opinion,” Sasori said, looking around the room for the hardest object he could throw at Deidara that wouldn’t result in a visit to the hospital. His eyes landed on a tennis ball next to the television. “Your avoidance of the matter, however, answers my question." 

Kabuto coughed in response, and muttered something.

“Honestly,” Sasori paused mid-way in his bend to pick up the tennis ball. “You still freeze up when you’re embarrassed?” His mind flashed back to middle school: finding Kabuto out by the side of the playground long after classes had ended, kneeling next to a robin with a broken wing.

Kabuto stayed quiet, and Sasori took the time to pick up the tennis ball and turn around, gauging his angle. “I don’t want to talk about this,” Kabuto finally sighed.

Sasori rolled his eyes. Either Kabuto had become more rude, or he’d taken to using neutral signifiers to further his avoidant tendencies. Sasori had known him for fifteen years, but they hadn’t seen each other in seven. When he considered that fact, Sasori was grudgingly impressed. Kabuto had always been far too polite as a child.

Sasori cleared his throat, and let the matter drop. “I’ll call you if I hear anything. I’m not holding your hand while you get acclimated here, though.”

Kabuto laughed. “As if you have any other friends.”

Sasori huffed, though he was smiling, and ended the call after he and Kabuto said their goodbyes. He looked between his phone and the tennis ball in his hands, and contemplating for a moment before ultimately tossing the tennis ball at Deidara’s shoulder.

“The _fuck_ , man!” Deidara jumped and abruptly sat up, rubbing at his shoulder. He pouted at Sasori, who in response snapped, “Don’t you know any other words?”

“Why are you so bitchy today, yeah?” Deidara grumbled. He held out a hand, and Sasori sighed before helping him stand (the couch _was_ old, Sasori had gotten stuck in it before).

“We have an infestation, and I have to go to work,” Sasori picked up the pamphlet he’d placed on the coffee table in front of Deidara last night that had ABURAME written in bold letters on its front. He held it out in front of himself until Deidara took it. “Since you are not working today, call them.” 

“Okay, boss,” Deidara said, and saluted Sasori with his middle finger.

 _Imbecile_ , Sasori thought.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Aburame Company did not kill pests, Sasori found. They relocated them. That was all well and good for things like bees, he thought, but roaches and termites? They had no ecological benefit that Sasori was aware of (or that he felt like devoting the time to finding out). Unfortunately, roaches did not relocate but rather _expanded_ , and the end of April found Sasori unhappily scouring craigslist and considering calling Kakuzu for listings.

“We are moving,” Sasori announced to Deidara, eyes on the mess of papers he had before him. “I will be making the decision, but I will tell you which places I am considering and you can weigh in—”

“Yeah, cool,” Deidara said, cutting him off. He was upside down on the couch and intently playing _Super Mario Bros._ His right elbow was covered in cement dust.

“Do you just,” Sasori muttered, looking up from his laptop, “have no feelings on the matter.”

“Nah,” Deidara answered, sticking out his tongue in concentration. “You’ll make a good choice. Or just make Kakuzu handle it.”

“Hm.”

Sasori looked down at Astarte. The cat pawed at his calf, swishing her tail as she meowed for food. “Let’s hope you can accept this change,” he told her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**May**

  

From: yakushik@gmail.com  
To: akasuna@gmail.com  
Subject: Seriously?

This Kakuzu guy’s fees are outrageous, and I’m way too poor/young to hire an agent to help me find an apartment. I’m too old for foster care now, too…

 

Kabuto

 

 

From: akasuna@gmail.com  
To: yakushik@gmail.com  
Subject: Re: Seriously? 

Did you not mention me? I got you a free hour. Give him my name. Twenty minutes is really all he needs, if one is to be honest.

 

S

 

 

To: yakushik@gmail.com  
From: akasuna@gmail.com  
Subject: Re: re: Seriously?

I have an apartment!

 

Kabuto

  
Attachments: image1.jpeg, image2.jpeg, image3.jpeg, image4.jpeg

 

 

From: akasuna@gmail.com  
To: yakushik@gmail.com  
Subject: Obviously

It took Kakuzu two days? He must be losing his touch… But it looks like it meets all of your requirements. Are you sure you want to live alone?

 

S

 

 

From: yakushik@gmail.com  
To: akasuna@gmail.com  
Subject: Re: Obviously

It’s what I’m used to. I need as few upsets as possible.

 

Kabuto

 

 

From: akasuna@gmail.com  
To: yakushik@gmail.com  
Subject: Re: re: Obviously

Postpone meeting my roommate, then.

 

S

 

 

 

From: bangyeah@gmail.com  
To: yakushik@gmail.com  
Subject: sasori’s old and boring

dont let him tell you what to do im cool

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey!”

The picture was, overall, not very good, but Kabuto’s face was lit and clearly visible.

“Hi,” Sasori said. He didn’t like video calls; never had. Grand-mère had asked (bullied) him to make an account when she first got a computer, and Sasori had rarely used the feature since. Being a dutiful grandson and calling her twice a month was work enough.

Kabuto seemed to know how to use the program, however—his face was in focus and there wasn’t any odd perspective on Sasori’s end. He looked straight into the camera at Sasori, a small, bemused smile on his face.

Sasori studied his expression, tempted to start noticing the differences between the Kabuto he remembered and the face he was seeing now. But there wasn’t time for that, as soon Kabuto spoke.

“I can’t see you,” Kabuto said. He almost sounded embarrassed.

“Oh.” Sasori looked at the small square that showed a picture of himself, and tilted his screen until his face was fully in the frame. “Is this better?”

Kabuto’s smile stretched, and for a moment Sasori could have sworn there was fondness in his eyes. But overall, Sasori realized, he just looked tired. “Yeah. It’s good to see you.”

Sasori’s eyes widened in surprised, and he smirked despite himself. “Have you become soft.”

“Ha,” Kabuto laughed. “No, not at all. Don’t worry.”

“I’m your friend,” Sasori said, looking to his side at Astarte, who had walked up next to the laptop. She meowed at him. He patted his thigh, and she jumped into his lap. “Aren’t I supposed to be? Worried?”

Sasori looked back at the screen to see Kabuto, who was looking at Astarte. He released his lower lip from his teeth—he must have been biting it while Sasori wasn’t looking—and exhaled. Astarte blinked, wide-eyed, at the image of Kabuto on the screen.

“Is this your cat?” Kabuto asked.

“Yes, this is Astarte.” Sasori would have told Kabuto _more_ about Astarte, but Deidara had chosen that time to get out of the shower and join them.

“HEY.” Deidara’s voice came from somewhere inside the t-shirt he was pulling over his head. Sasori looked over his shoulder at him and frowned, but said nothing.

Deidara folded his arms and leaned on Sasori’s shoulders, looking at the screen. He gave a small wave. “Deidara here, you must be Kabuto?” Kabuto nodded.

“You guys sound really fucking awkward, I hope you know that.” Deidara looked between the screen and Sasori and grinned. Sasori’s shoulders stiffened, and he squeezed Astarte a little too forcefully. She yelped and wriggled out of his hands, jumping to the floor.

“Um—” Kabuto tried to talk, but Deidara cut him off. “Since I’m here now,” Deidara said, “things should hopefully get more comfortable.”

“Oh, okay.”

Sasori glanced back up at the screen. Kabuto looked deeply confused. He was staring at Deidara, who must have been quite a picture. The shirt Deidara was wearing was bright pink, and he hadn’t done anything to his hair yet—not even attempted to dry it. Water was dripping onto his shirt and down onto Sasori’s clothes and neck as well.

“I apologize for my roommate—“

“Hey!” Deidara interrupted. “ _Boyfriend_ ,” he corrected.

Sasori rolled his eyes. “ _Oui_ , boyfriend,” he repeated. “He is probably… not what you were expecting.”

“I…” Kabuto opened his mouth, and paused, as if thinking of what to say. “I wasn’t even aware of a boyfriend. I knew Deidara,” he looked at him, “was your roommate.” Kabuto pushed a strand of hair behind his ear. His bangs were quite long, Sasori noted. “I gathered that from the e-mails.”

“You e-mailed him?” Sasori looked up at Deidara. Deidara ignored him.

“So, Kabuto, dude, when d’you get here?” Deidara said, moving off of Sasori— _thank god_ , his shoulders had started to hurt from the weight of him—and sat down in the chair to his left.

Sasori rolled his shoulders back, but found his movement restricted. He looked back at Deidara, who had scooted his chair close and wrapped an arm around Sasori’s shoulders. Almost too tightly. Sasori stared at him for a second, then turned back to the screen.

Kabuto still looked a little confused. Sasori didn’t see the need to explain, or even confront Deidara, but he still kicked him under the table.

“Well, I’d wanted to leave in June,” Kabuto said, breaking the silence, “but I think I’ll be there early July.”

With Deidara occupying Kabuto’s attention, Sasori now had the opportunity to properly look him over. From Kabuto’s seated position, Sasori couldn’t tell if Kabuto’s weight had changed. He looked more filled out in his shoulders (anyone would, from 17 to 24) and his face, while still round, had lost most of the baby fat that had stubbornly clung to his cheeks throughout high school.

“What’s keepin’ ya?”

“I have things to get rid of before I can go. I’m waiting for a few more things to sell through online advertisements before donating the rest,” Kabuto sighed.

“Why don’t you just keep the stuff? Won’t you need shit for your place?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m mailing quite a few boxes, but I don’t want to bother moving the bigger things cross-country. Furniture can always be replaced.”

Bigger things must mean beds or wardrobes, and Sasori saw none of those in the picture. In fact, he saw little else other than some cabinets and bare countertops. The wood was old, but Sasori knew their handles. Kabuto was video calling him from the kitchen of his mother’s house, Sasori realized. Looking more closely, he saw that through the doorway behind him, even the living room was bare.

There would be a time to talk about it, Sasori supposed, but now, with Deidara here, was not that time.

“That’s cool. Get extra money and all.”

“Tell me about it.” Sasori looked back at Kabuto’s face. “Money is…” Kabuto looked to the side, adjusting his glasses and thinking for a moment before finishing, “frustrating.”

“Good luck with your move,” Sasori said.

“Thank you.” Kabuto smiled. “Maybe the three of us could get coffee or something when I get there.”

Sasori nodded. “I’ll need to fill you in on the right places, of course.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“I don’t really like coffee,” Deidara said, sticking out his tongue in disgust, but then smiled back at Kabuto. “But yeah, for sure. The three of us should get together when you make it out.” His smile stretched into a smirk. “You’ve gotta start telling me tons of embarrassing stories about Sasori as soon as possible.”

Kabuto laughed, and thoughtfully tapped a finger against his cheek. “Well, I suppose—”

“That is hardly necessary,” Sasori grumbled, glaring at Deidara. He turned his glance on Kabuto, though it was nowhere near as threatening. “You know very well I have stories about you.”

For a moment, Kabuto paled, but he quickly regained his composure and shrugged, shaking his head. “I was just a naive child, taken advantage of,” he said, “you were the older one with all the _ideas_.”

“If anyone had _schemes_ , it was you,” Sasori snapped, but he couldn’t hold back a smile. “Why would I ever think of lighting a table on fire?”

“Excuse me?” Kabuto said with a fake scandalized expression, holding a hand to his chest and laughing. “I clearly remember explaining to you the proper steps of sterilizing that wire _as_ you did them out of order and started the fire.”

“I remember it differently,” Sasori countered. “Though I wonder if the scorch marks are still on that table in the science room.”

“I’m sure they are,” Kabuto said. “Though I haven’t been back since I graduated.”

“Let’s put in a call,” Deidara suddenly cut in. He’d been greedily watching the two of them with wide eyes as they spoke, surprisingly sitting very still, but now was waving his hands as he spoke. “They won’t recognize my voice, we can pretend it’s some regulations inspection—”

“No,” Sasori and Kabuto both said at once, their disappointed expressions nearly identical.

“Fine,” Deidara huffed. “You two together are gonna destroy all chances of fun, I can tell that already.” He looked away from the screen, and Sasori took the free moment to give Kabuto a small smile, which he returned.

It was weird. Weird to smile so much, weird to think back to high school, and weird to believe that this was the same Kabuto he’d spent his adolescence with. He could see bits of the Kabuto he remembered: his upturned eyes, the way he wore his hair, his penchant for collared shirts, the same expression of surprise. But his smile was more tired, almost sad, and he was certainly more reserved.

The changes weren’t astronomical, and there was only so much one could tell from phone calls, e-mails, and one video. Years had passed and Kabuto had grown; that shouldn’t be surprising. But Sasori knew himself—he had never dealt well with change.

“Well, it’s getting late here,” Kabuto said. He yawned into his palm. “Oh, excuse me.”

“Go ahead and get to sleep,” Sasori said. “You…” he continued, a little awkwardly, “need to rest. For moving.”

“Yes,” Kabuto said, watching him closely, “for ‘moving.’ Right.” He looked at Deidara. “It was a pleasure, Deidara.”

Deidara nodded. “Yeah, pleasure; same! Get here safe, okay?” He tightened his hold around Sasori and gave a wave with his free hand.

“Thank you.” Kabuto turned to Sasori. “Goodnight, Sasori.”

“Keep me posted,” Sasori said with a nod. “Goodnight.”

Sasori ended the video call and shut his laptop, then wrenched Deidara’s arm off of his shoulders. Glaring at him, he recited, “‘Yeah, pleasure, same’? What the hell was that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know!” Deidara held up his hands in front of himself. “You guys were being so painfully uncomfortable already, maybe I felt like I had to be awkward, too!”

“That’s hardly an excuse, or even understandable,” Sasori sighed. “And there was no need to strangle me throughout the call.” Were he and Kabuto really that awkward with each other?

Now Deidara did look uncomfortable, and even slightly grumpy, which was unlike him. “You’re my boyfriend. I’m allowed to touch you.”

“I suppose.” Sasori got up out of his seat, walking over to where Astarte had relocated to the couch, and scooped her into his arms. “Just don’t be more obnoxious than you need to.”

Deidara watched Sasori walk, and turned around in his chair, frowning petulantly. “I need to be plenty obnoxious,” he said, and before Sasori could respond, continued, “I have the greatest need to be obnoxious. It is who I am. My reason for—”

“If there’s something on your mind, just tell me, and stop babbling,” Sasori said, watching Astarte wriggle in his arms while he petted her. “I will talk to you when you decide to make sense.” He began to walk to his room, but stopped mid-step when Deidara next spoke.

“This is the first person you’ve used one of your group favors for,” he heard Deidara mumble, “and you don’t even look comfortable talking to him.”

Sasori closed his eyes, exhaled, and counted to eight in his head before turning back around to face Deidara. “Do you feel threatened? Is that what this is about?”

“Kinda,” Deidara shrugged. He wasn’t meeting Sasori’s eyes.

“Well, don’t…” Sasori struggled to keep his tone gentle, “don’t worry about it. You two are different parts of my life.”

“I never knew this guy really was a part of your life until today,” Deidara said, looking at Sasori now. “Just… don’t keep that shit from me, alright?”

“Okay,” Sasori agreed, rubbing at one of his temples. “In return, please be civil to Kabuto.”

“Dude, when am I civil to _you_?” Deidara pointed at Sasori, grinning.

“Fair point.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**July**

 

 

Kabuto squinted down at his phone. The glare from the sun obscured the text on the screen. He glanced up and moved out of the way of foot traffic and back into shadow. Downtown street corners were, of course, busy anywhere, though generally more precarious to those with a backpack, a duffel, and a large suitcase.

Out of the sun, he swiped his thumb over his phone’s screen and opened the e-mail he’d been trying to read. Kabuto was good with technology—probably better than most—but it didn't mean that he always enjoyed using it. Especially now. Discomfort settled in his stomach as he put his new apartment’s address into a maps application and turned on his phone’s GPS service.

His free hand tightened around the handle of his suitcase. His paranoia was unfounded and he knew it—though he _was_ in a new place and his vision _was_ limited by the fact that he was staring at his phone, he still had four other senses to alert him, and also, why would there be trouble? Who would go after him? For what? And why? But alone in a city he didn’t know, and with baggage, he felt bulky and sluggish. Regardless of the logical illegitimacy of his anxiety, it was present and formidable.

When the directions finally loaded on his screen, Kabuto read them through at least three times, breathing evenly. It turns out that he is not far from the place, only a few blocks, actually, and his shoulders relax in relief. He’d walked many blocks after getting off the airport shuttle to find a quiet stretch of sidewalk, and had worried he’d headed too off track. Kabuto looked up at the traffic lights and DON’T WALK sign on the other side of his corner’s crosswalk, repeating the directions to himself in his head.

The light changed, and he stepped forward into the street.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When he reached the building, Kabuto looked up, studying it. It had a modern—though rather austere—design, and more stories than he expected. There’s another structure to its left that looked like a small parking garage, and he could see the beginnings of a path between the two that led somewhere he couldn’t see. All in all, the complex took up most of a block and for only being a handful of streets off of a busy road, the atmosphere was relatively quiet—and for 5 p.m. on a weekday.

The agent that Sasori had connected him with, Kakuzu, had told him that the owner (and the landlord) of the building would meet him in the lobby at 5:15. Kabuto was so impressed that he'd landed a building _with_ a lobby and doorman that he hadn't thought to ask for a physical description of the owner. All he had was a name: Uchiha Fugaku.

The building said UCHIHA in large letters to the left of the door, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to find him. With his elbow, Kabuto hit what he hoped to be the trigger for an automatic door opening system, and the door opened.

"You just called the fire department," he heard a voice say after he walked into the lobby. "I opened the door from inside. Good guess, though."

Kabuto flushed when he realized the voice was talking to him. He quickly connected it to its owner—a young man, probably around Kabuto's age, who was leaning against the front of a desk. He was in all black—no, his (fitted) shirt was lighter than his (fitted) slacks, so he was dressed in black and grey. He had long, glossy black hair, half of which was tied back in a loose ponytail. The rest of framed his face in two long curtains.

He was impeccably dressed, and, from what Kabuto could tell, perfectly manicured. Kabuto immediately felt very out of place in his worn shirt and jeans.

"Oh. Should I," Kabuto looked back, through the glass doors, at the panel outside, "press it ag—?"

"No, that would resend the alert," the man said. He straightened and walked over to Kabuto, extending his hand with a soft smile. "Don't worry. I canceled the request from the desk."

Kabuto set his duffel down next to his suitcase and took the man's hand, shaking it. "Yakushi Kabuto. Thank you. Sorry about the—"

"Uchiha Itachi." The man shook his head. "And don't worry about it. Father is very particular, and doesn’t explain things well. You’re not the first to make that mistake." Kabuto noticed that he had remarkably prominent tear troughs underneath his eyes.

 _Father?_ "Are you, uh, related to the building’s owner, Uchiha Fugaku?" Kabuto asked, speaking quickly to fit an entire sentence in before Itachi cut him off.

"Yes," Itachi answered. "Uchiha Fugaku is my father."

“Oh. I’m a,” Kabuto paused for a fraction of a second, just in case Itachi would cut him off again. He didn’t, so Kabuto continued, “new tenant. My agent—” he fished Kakuzu’s card out of his pocket and handed it to Itachi, for credibility, “told me he had set up a meeting between your father and I this evening.”

Itachi glanced at Kakuzu’s card for only a second before handing it back to Kabuto. He smiled. “Yes, I was aware of that. Father asked me to take care of the meeting, seeing as I handled the deal.”

Kabuto blinked. “Excuse me?”

Itachi shrugged and bent over the reception counter to pick something up. Kabuto’s sense of inferiority grew—here he was, rumpled and self-conscious while Itachi was all poise and controlled grace in a clearly well-kept building. When Itachi turned around, he had a set of keys in one hand and a binder in the other. He pocketed the keys.

“Kakuzu and I are old acquaintances. I always let him in on potential openings first, and I owed him a favor this time,” Itachi said. He must have seen the confusion on Kabuto’s face, because he added, “Father wants me to be his business partner, to take over when he leaves, so I take on small things once in a while.”

“Oh, well,” Kabuto struggled for words. Hadn’t Kakuzu owed Sasori a favor? And Itachi owed Kakuzu a favor? By moving here, was he unintentionally enlisting himself in an unending circle of favors? Did he owe Itachi now? “Thank you.”

Itachi nodded. “I’ll take you to your apartment and help you get acquainted with the building.” He gestured to Kabuto’s luggage. “Do you need a hand?”

Kabuto shook his head. “I can handle it, if you can get the doors.”

“Certainly.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

They’d dropped Kabuto’s luggage off at his apartment first, and then Itachi had given Kabuto a short tour. The lower floors were for business offices, some unoccupied, and Itachi even had one of his own. In the back, there was a pool and a small facility with exercise equipment and washing machines that Kabuto, as a tenant, could access. He’d have to pay a small fee for a parking pass if he wanted one, but as Kabuto didn’t have a car, this wasn’t a problem.

Kabuto’s apartment was on the middle floor, where, Itachi explained, ‘outside’ tenants stayed.

“A great deal of my extended family lives in this building,” Itachi said as they made their way back to Kabuto’s apartment. “My immediate family still lives at the top, in the penthouse where I grew up.”

“Why’d you stay here?” Kabuto asked. “If I can ask.”

“Father needs help,” Itachi explained. “And I have a younger brother still in high school. I want to be here until he moves out.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you.”

Itachi gave Kabuto a wry smile. “It would be nice if he thought of it that way.”

When they reached Kabuto’s apartment, Itachi handed Kabuto his keys and the binder he’d brought from the lobby. “This had information on your utilities, and a map of the building and the facilities in the square block, among other things.”

Kabuto opened the binder and flipped through its pages, impressed. “That’s very kind. This is the first time I’ve lived in a place that—”

Itachi waved a hand. “We don’t have many outside tenants. Sasori told me you were new to town, so I put it together this morning.” He pointed to a sheaf of flyers tucked into the front of the binder. “There’s my card, information on the city’s public transit, and a few extra coupons I had lying around, as well.”

“I picked up so many pamphlets in the airport,” Kabuto admitted with a nervous laugh, “I probably have many copies of what you’ve included.”

“Still,” Itachi said, shrugging one shoulder. “I thought it might be helpful to you.”

Kabuto tucked the binder under his arm. “I appreciate your help, Itachi. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Itachi smiled. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here. I’m only two floors above you, so feel free to ask if you need anything.”

“Sure, thanks.”

With that, Itachi headed back to the elevator. Kabuto unlocked the door to his apartment, and walked inside. It was a little smaller than had it seemed in the pictures, but it was clean, and there was even a couch, a small bureau, a table next to the kitchen, and a mattress in the bedroom. He’d thought it was unfurnished, but Itachi had said that the building had some extra furniture, and had it moved it in for Kabuto to use until he found his own things.

The kindness was all rather overwhelming. He’d have to figure out the way all these “favors” between Sasori, Kakuzu, and Itachi worked and if they involved him, but for now, Kabuto was exhausted from traveling. He’d been stressed about making sure that his things made it with him safely, finding the building (and finding it _on time_ ), and meeting his landlord, though that looked as if it’d have to wait.

Kabuto walked over to the couch, where he’d set his duffel, and zipped it open. He reached inside and pulled out a small, covered vase, its height barely half the length of his forearm. Kabuto brushed his fingers over it gently, as if wiping off dust, and placed it on the bureau.

“Well, mom,” he said to it, voice quiet. “I made it.”


End file.
